In the office, she wrote everything on yellow paper: legals pads, while-you-were-outs, carbon copies, and sticky notes. Her eyes, so accustomed to the faded yellow of her workdays, had difficulty ... [+]
So much so she remembers the child,
The boy who passed in police custody,
Sparking the blazes burning up the ward.
As stores and shops burst into flames,
Taking in the scene alarms the mother.
The firestorm crosses one after another block.
Neighbors in a hurry break the news;
They witness a boy clad in black,
Lost in the swirl of a swarm.
Patrols that pepper the lot bring tears.
The woman picks out her dear boy,
Smack in the middle of a lineup
With all the power invested in her,
She snaps and shakes her son home.